


Weather

by The_Button_Harlequin



Series: Hannibal Advent 2015 [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Season 1, Will has no concept of actual warm clothes, gratuitous usage of smell adjectives, it's too fucking cold out that's why, scarf, why weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 23:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5225627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Button_Harlequin/pseuds/The_Button_Harlequin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will has to go out to a crime scene and forgets that the weather man isn't always right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weather

**Author's Note:**

> For the Hannibal Advent: Day 1

Hannibal Advent Day 1: Weather

Will crossed his arms to protect against the biting wind, his thin sweater thoughtlessly thrown on at the belief that he wouldn’t be needed that day. It was chilly, but he knew that it was just warm enough not to put salt on the roads just yet despite the worryingly slick patches of asphalt. 

“You gonna ride over with me or with Jack?” Beverly turned from where she was loading up the van with forensic equipment right next to her niece’s color guard batons.

Will looked around, saw the scowl on Jack’s face, and tightened the hold on his elbows. “I’ll drive up myself,” he stated, “It’ll give me the chance to concentrate on the ride up.”

“You really wanna do that?” Beverly gave him a steady look. “I know that Jack’s gonna be a little mean and you and I don’t see eye to eye on music but you don’t wanna be alone driving on this.”

“Because I’m not fit to drive?”

“Because the weather’s not fit to drive,” Beverly shot him a piercing glance. “First storm of the season is heading our way and no one wants to be caught in it.”

Will reflected her piercing look right back to the owner. “You know this because the weather man who’s been reporting heat waves all week told you this?” He tightened his arms around his midsection as another cut of wind slid through his sweater down to his bare skin.

Beverly slammed the trunk down. “Call it a hunch.”

Will said nothing else as Jack barked his orders to move faster, there was a crime scene to get to. 

If Will drove his beat up rust bucket a little slower than the others, well. No one else had to know.

* * *

It was messy, bloody, nothing short of brutal, and undeniably beautiful.

Will staggered out of the crime scene, shivering from the biting chill that the line of trees could not protect him from, and into the arms of his psychiatrist, dressed clothes warmer than the temperature really needed.

“S-sorry,” Will’s teeth chattered to keep himself contained while his fingers tapped an unsteady rhythm against the inside of his arm. He attempted to pull away only to be stopped by strong hands, big hands, surgeon’s hands.

“Will,” and it was said with disapproval, “you’re not dressed for the cold.”

Will muttered, “Everyone’s talking about the weather today.” He spoke up clearer to say, “I made the mistake of listening to the actual reports, instead of being the psychic I’m supposed to be.”

“Predicting the moods of Mother Nature is as much innate talent as it is skill,” Hannibal said, finally taking his warm hands away, “There are those who possess the ability to almost see into the future and others who wouldn’t know what was likely coming if it was handed to them by God himself.”

Will chuckled, only to have it cut off with a choke at the feeling of the softest material he’d ever felt looped around his throat. 

“Hannibal, I don’t need-”

“Nonsense,” Hannibal continued tugging and looping the scarf around his friend’s neck, “I’ve brought an extra scarf on accident and you just so happen to be in need of warmth. If it discomforts you so, return it at our next appointment.” Hannibal finished knotting the scarf and ran his hands down the lengths of cashmere straighten it. If he felt the planes of muscle and the ridges of bone beneath, well, he was checking his friend’s health. “Until that time, wear it as much as you like. It would please me to know that I can help you in other ways outside of our conversations.”

Will couldn’t deny that the scarf was warm, knitted with incredibly soft gray cashmere yarn, and smelled of peace and stability. Like sandalwood and old books, treated leather and some hair product that Will for the life of him couldn’t name. 

Will looked up from his examination of his loaned scarf to the full lips of the owner, pulled up at the corners the way that he usually only allowed his eyes to smile. He pulled his sight a little higher and couldn’t help the way his own grin caught him off guard.

“That’s quite the interesting hat you have there.”

Hannibal straightened and Will could have sworn he puffed up indignantly. “It’s a favorite of mine.”

Will’s grin grew a little more. He brushed away an annoying curl behind his ear, flicking his quick eyes away from the hat to make rare eye contact with windows he didn’t mind looking into infrequently. “I like it.”

Will jumped at the bellow of Jack somewhere behind him at the crime scene, something to do with eyeballs and spleens.

Will didn’t notice, with his quick acquiesce to the order and a hurried goodbye, a stalled breath in a broad chest. He didn’t notice the widening eyes or the way they focused on wind reddened cheeks. He almost noticed the way that sharp eyes couldn’t stop devouring the sight of tousled curls. Reminiscent of a Botticelli in the bloom of love.

Hannibal, unable to look away at the ass that was clad in jeans just a size too big to be really flattering, prayed that Will would wear the scarf the entire week if only for the warmth it provided. To Hannibal, once it was returned would see it as the reminder that he had far, far more plans for a brain heated up. It was too warm to constrain such a perfect mind, but certainly not to damaged for him to help along such great potential.

It would be so beautiful.

Will already was.


End file.
